


Red Striped Ties

by violentcheese



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: AU, Hartwin, M/M, Red String of Fate, Tumblr Fic Prompt, eggsy works for Alexander McQueen, merlin is a good frend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3520229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentcheese/pseuds/violentcheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mustardprecum prompted "Eggsy is the ragamuffin kid who refuses to stop hanging the Kingsman Tailor shop because he has a crush on Harry Hart, the owner."</p>
<p>Eggsy follows his string patiently. Harry ignores his. Happy ending.</p>
<p>I might continue this!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Striped Ties

(Merlin gave Eggsy the medal, Harry and Eggsy haven’t met yet. Red String of Fate AU!)

Eggsy’s always known that whoever was end of his string was special. His string never stayed still! It seemed to him, some days, as a fanciful child, that his soulmate was a secret agent who jetsetted all over the world.

He would laugh about that in years to come.

The first time Eggsy figured out where his string ended, he was eight years old. On a school trip to famous London streets, they passed by one very important tailor’s. Kingsman. The strings never tugged or gave an indication as to how close your partner was but Eggsy knew in his heart that Kingsman was where his soulmate lay.

He dashed off while the teacher wasn’t looking, slipping through the door silently (years later they would tell him that they had seen him. Children when excited are not prone to subtlety). And then- there he was. Eggsy wasn’t particularly bothered by that. He could see the red string knotted perfectly on the much older man’s finger. The man was headed for one of the fitting rooms. Eggsy tried to throw himself through after his soulmate, his little heart pounding.

"No!" He screamed, kicking his legs and strong hands plucked him seemingly from mid-air. "No! He’s mine! Lemme go, baldy!" He spat and wriggled viciously. Mummy said that the red string person was the most important in the world!   
“He’s mine! I have to!”   
The bald man set him down outside the shop window.   
“I’m sorry, little one,” he spoke in a Scottish brogue. “Fitting rooms aren’t for children. Mr. Hart is very busy. Why don’t you go find your teacher? She’s at the end of the road. Go on!” Eggsy scowled, pulling himself from the bald man’s grip. Stupid adults!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry had despised his red string from day one. His hadn’t materialised until he was into his twenties. He knew what that meant- a child, 23 years younger than he. Disgusted with himself, he trained himself out of seeing the red string twisting and bobbing around as his soulmate moved. This skill served him well during Kingsman training. Four others had been sent home for being distracted by theirs.

Their handler, a burly black man codenamed Merlin, asked him if he even had one.   
“I might as well not have one. I have no desire to meet them.”   
Three years later, a new Merlin was instated alongside Harry’s Galahad. They quickly became friends, Harry explaining why he wouldn’t take a year like so many others to try and find him or her. And so, when a young child of exactly the right age tried sneaking in after Harry, Merlin scooped him up and sent him back. He wouldn’t see Harry hurt, the child.. Well. He could grow up first.

That was the first encounter Kingsman had with Eggsy. It wasn’t the last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eggsy forgot about the tailor’s eventually. He was too busy pick pocketing money for sweets, annoying his teacher, attending gymnastics practice. Dean came along when he was thirteen. Everything was great with him for two years before he showed his violent side. Eggsy.. Eggsy felt awful leaving his Mum but what could he do? He would take the bus into the city proper, wandering aimlessly for hours. Sometimes he would follow his string. Other times he pretended it wasn’t there and got blackout pissed with stolen alcohol.

Only once he was seventeen did he venture back to Savile Row, skulking across the road, his SnapBack pulled low. Various well-dressed men would enter and exit purposefully. None ever left with anything resembling suit paraphernalia, not in the three months that Eggsy had been hanging around. He never ventured inside any of the shops.

A chav like him, in a posh shop like those? Not bloody likely. He was surprised no one had called the pigs on him yet. (Merlin’s doing. He could at least keep Harry’s soulmate safe, even if they never met).

"Hey, you! You there, with the.. Tracksuit!" A voice called out from across the road. Eggsy perked up from his slouched position against the wall. Was that-? No. His face fell, though he managed to school it well. It was some bloke from the Alexander McQueen shop beside Kingsman.   
“Yes, you! You’ve been out there a while now. At least come in and do some heavy lifting for us instead of being useless.”

And that was how Eggsy found his not-exactly-on-the-books job. He would help out the designers and learned how to take measurements. Sewing was really not his forté, he decided, after one too many stabbed fingers. He dropped out of gymnastics to spend more time in the shop, learning and slowly becoming more of the boy he had been before Dean. Softer. Less afraid. His red string hardly wavered from next door, it was always there at least once a day. Sometimes it wouldn’t be for weeks at a time but Eggsy never minded. He knew he would come back.

He tried a stint in the Marine’s, but he found himself missing the warm lights of Kingsman and the team at Alexander McQueen. He came home just months before he would have qualified. He was content with that.

When the tailor in McQueen needed a new chalk, Eggsy volunteered to get some next door. He was nervous. Almost four years- no, five, in a week. He’d be 22 soon- and he’d never been inside Kingsman. His soulmate was there today too although he was nowhere in sight when Eggsy stepped in.

The bald man greeted him again with a stony expression.   
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he sighed.   
“I- sorry, mate, what? Your shop is open to the public, am I not public?” Eggsy was.. hurt, he realised with a start. He was so close to his soulmate and he was being kicked out! The fitting room door opened to one side, the bald man sighing.   
“This one is on you, Galahad. I told you not to come out.”

"But why not, Merlin?" And there he was. He had maybe two inches on Eggsy, impeccably dressed in what Eggsy now recognised as a bespoke suit, his Oxfords shining.

"Your fucking name is Galahad?" Eggsy looked pained. Trust him to get the posh arse with an equally posh name. "Fuck me- sorry. Bloody hell? Better?" He received nods. Galahad was staring at him in confusion.   
“No, Galahad is a.. Nickname. My name is Harry. Merlin, who is this young man?” But already his stomach was sinking. Of course. The string. Harry held up his hand slowly, watching as the stranger’s hand mirrored his action. The string was taut between them.

"Oh, bollocks," Harry swore.   
“Fuck, yes!” Eggsy whooped. “It’s about time, mate. Are you always late?”

Merlin snorted. “Oh, Harry. I like him. You had better keep him- see what Arthur thinks.”

Harry simply looked resigned. He wasn’t very happy looking, which put a dampener on Eggsy’s mood too.

For a second time in his life, Eggsy found himself being steered out front by Merlin.   
“What the fuck! He’s my- I’m his- Let go of me, mate, I swear-” something hit his neck and he found himself quickly falling asleep. He welcomed the darkness. Maybe when he woke up, Harry would be there too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry wasn’t there, but Dean’s gang was, and so were the car keys to a lovely yellow Subaru. 

When he called the number on the back of his medal from the police stations, it wasn’t the bald man- Merlin- who picked him up. It was Harry. 

Eggsy never looked so good in a suit from there on in. He always made sure the red stripes on his ties matched the colour of his and Harry’s string.


End file.
